Sixteen
by SiriuslySeriously
Summary: We were always told we were too young. I didn't believe them until now.


I remember when we first met.

That first day of school, so _nervous._ Taking your first steps of a long journey along with children who are just as scared as you.

You were seated in the back of the room, head down on the desk with your arms crossed.

I took a chance. I sat by you. I wouldn't know it then, but that decision would turn out to be one of the smartest things I'd ever do. After all, it led me to you.

I remember you being startled by the sound of my chair scraping against the floor. You looked up at me with wide, watery eyes. I offered you a smile. Thankfully, although hesitantly, you smiled, too.

We were inseparable after that. You only lived four doors down on the right. On even days we would go to my house and on odds, yours.

I remember I wanted to switch with you, take the odd days. They suited me better, I thought, but you held your head high and told me that only even numbers could be divided by 2 and were automatically better than odds. Your mother had overheard and laughed, asking where you had learned about division. She shook her head, saying we were too young to know about division, yet.

That was the first time we heard it.

The second time wouldn't come for a couple years.

I remember we were at the park, only about two minutes away from my house, and we were playing Pirates. It used to be our favorite game. We were going to sail all over the world plundering and pillaging. That was, until we grew out of it. We were playing swords with a couple of long sticks you had found. You had me backed up against the tree; you were always so much better at it than I was.

You put the stick to my neck and asked me if I had any last words. I spit on your shoe. You smirked at me, then, and raised your arm, bringing the stick down towards my face. I ducked it. You wouldn't hurt me, not on purpose. I trusted you.

An older man who had been sitting on a bench hollered at us. He was concerned. He had said that we were too young to be playing so rough with one another. You smiled at him and tried to explain that we were only playing and that I wasn't in any danger, not really. You'd told him you'd rather throw yourself overboard than hurt me.

He wasn't convinced.

The third time we heard it, we were at my house, playing _Operation_ in the living room. It was around dinner time, I remember, because the sun was beginning to set. You were going to spend the night. My father had come home from work mad and irritable. He got like that sometimes, being a lawyer. My mother, being the sweet woman she is, tried to calm him down in the hallway; after all, we were two impressionable kids who didn't need to be hearing such language.

I remember your eyes going wide and worried, tugging on my sleeve and begging for us to go to my room. I didn't understand at the time. How could I? You wouldn't say anything for years.

I smiled at you and told you that they did this sometimes; very seldom, actually. Daddy would get mad about work and Momma would calm him down in only the way she could. You shook your head, tears threatening to fall. I didn't get it.

Two minutes later, just as I predicted, they came around the corner and joined us for a minute. My mother saw your tear-stained face and immediately began fussing. I remember you tried to hide the tears. You told her you were only upset because we were supposed to watch _The Shining_ tonight on TV but it got replaced with some boring movie.

She frowned at us and said we were too young to be watching that kind of movie without getting nightmares. She was wrong. Nightmares didn't scare you, you said.

The fourth time would only be a few months later. We were in class and Billy Truit was bothering you again. He was making fun of your clothes. I remember he said you couldn't afford nice clothes because you wore the same hooded sweatshirt all the time. He didn't know it was your favorite. You jutted your chin out and told him to stop. He didn't.

When recess came, I couldn't find you on the playground. I searched and searched. I remember sitting on the swings when you finally came shuffling up to me. Your lip was bloodied and your knuckle was scratched. I asked you what happened. You didn't answer me. I remember lining up to go back to class when the teacher pulled you aside. I could still hear but pretended I didn't. You hated people who eavesdropped.

She confronted you about punching Billy. I remember feeling proud of you, standing up for yourself. I could never do that. You tried to tell her that he started it; you were only defending yourself. She said you were too young to be starting fights. She was going to call your parents. You began crying and begged her not to, it wouldn't happen again. She agreed. I assumed you didn't want to get grounded. I didn't blame you.

The fifth time was at the start of middle school. I remember it was around Halloween. The school was throwing a dance and we were meant to come in costumes. We were going to go together. We dressed up as pirates at my house and went to yours so your dad could take us to the school. I remember he was sitting in front of the TV. I don't remember where your mom was.

I remember being scared of your father. He could yell louder than anyone I knew at the time. I hid around the corner while you went in to tell him we were ready. I remember hearing nothing for a few moments. You repeated yourself. I heard something that sounded like glass knocking together before your father spoke. He said we were too young to be going somewhere without an adult for a couple hours. He wasn't going to take us.

I remember you argued with him. We were plenty old enough, you said. He must have disagreed because I remember hearing a grunt and then you can running around the corner. You grabbed my wrist and pulled me out to your backyard. I remember sitting beneath the old willow tree in your yard as it got dark. I remember looking at you and saying you had dirt by your eye; it was too dark and I couldn't see properly. I thought it was dirt.

I didn't see you for the rest of that week.

The sixth time those words were spoken to us was during the summer before our freshman year of highschool. A girl in the year above us was throwing a party. I remember you were really excited about it. You begged me for us to get ready at my house. I didn't understand why but I agreed.

You told me all the things you couldn't wait to do once we escaped this town. I remember the look that would shadow across your face whenever you were passionate about something; I loved seeing that look on you. I remember thinking about how beautiful you were in that moment.

We had successfully snuck out of my house and were headed to the party. I remember you had me laughing the whole way. You grabbed my hand and I ran with you.

I remember some jock answering the door and telling us to leave. Why should we, you had said. We had every right to be there, too. He laughed in our faces, saying we were too young to be at that party. It would cramp the style, he said. We were practically babies.

I remember holding you that night while you cried. I told you we shouldn't worry about what he said. He was nobody to us. We could throw our own parties soon, I had bribed. I remember you hugged me tighter, just enough to give me a small squeeze.

You told me I was the only good thing left in your life and to never change. I promised I wouldn't. I didn't understand your words at the time.

The seventh time we heard it was toward the end of our freshman year. I remember you had gotten called to the guidance counselor's office. A few moments later, I got called in, too. I was confused as I sat beside you in those uncomfortable chairs.

I remember being even more confused as she explained why she wanted to speak to us. Some nameless student saw you, she said. In the bathroom. She wanted to know about the blood in the sink. I remember being horrified. I remember seeing you hang your head.

We were too young to be into such a harmful phase, she said. She was going to call our parents if she got word again. A part of me wishes she did. Knowing what I do now, though, I'm glad she didn't. She didn't understand, I thought. How could she?

I did, though. For the first time in my life, I wasn't too young to understand.

I remember screaming at you in the park after school. _Our park._

I remember crying and pleading you. Don't do it again, I cried. How could you be so stupid? Show me your arm, I demanded. You obliged. You showed me your arm. I saw the scars. This wasn't the first time, I noticed.

I remember running my fingers over your skin while I sobbed. Your beautiful, flawless skin was now marred and burdened. You said nothing. You didn't cry. You just smiled in your sweet way and held me.

I remember being there for hours. You should have told me, I said. I could have helped you.

Everything would be fine, you promised. We would run away. Far away. I agreed. I'd do anything if it meant keeping you safe, I said. You put your hand to my cheek, then, and told me you loved me.

We would go home and pack tonight, you said. We would meet in the park in the morning and just leave. Go anywhere. You hugged me for a few moments longer than you normally would. Our lives start tomorrow, you said.

I was determined. I kissed your cheek before we separated and laughed at your tinted face. You ducked your head and laughed, too. You always know how to make me smile, you said. I prided myself on it.

I didn't pack much that night. Just the essentials and a change of clothes or two. I remember not being able to sleep. I was too excited at the thought of you finally living your dreams. Finally helping you get what you've always wanted. My dream was you; just you.

I remember sneaking out of the house early. Earlier than I normally leave. I didn't want to face my parents. I waited in the park for you. I placed my bag at my feet and sat down on the bench.

I waited over an hour. Did you change your mind, I thought. Maybe you were still sleeping?

I don't even remember getting up. I don't remember leaving my bag behind. I don't remember any thought in my head except your name. Just your name. Over and over, again.

My feet took me to you. They always did.

I remember stumbling. Trying to catch my breath. That gnawing feeling of not being able to breathe even when your lungs are working overtime. This was a joke, right?

Flashing lights. No sirens.

They brought you out of the house under a sheet. I refused to believe it was you. You promised me. You said we'd run away. It was supposed to get better.

You promised me.

I remember not wanting to go to the funeral. You weren't dead. Not to me. You couldn't be. I loved you too much to let you go.

I went, anyway. A small part of my mind knew it would be you laying there. I hoped it wouldn't be. I remember staring at your face; I couldn't look anywhere else. I had never seen you look so peaceful. You looked like an angel.

I love you, I told you. I love you so much.

I kissed your forehead and prayed to see a dusting of color on your cheeks. You always got embarrassed when I got sappy, you told me once. You loved me for it, though.

I remember feeling my heart break when you didn't respond to me. I always thought it was a figure of speech, to have your heart break, but I know that's not true, now. To love something so deeply and have it taken from you causes a pain no one can quite describe except to only say that your heart was broken.

They were right. All of them.

We should have listened, I told you. We were too young.

You were too young.

Sixteen is too young.


End file.
